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Radio Advertising
by Christina Barr
Ever wonder how businesses get their ads on the radio? Generally, the company comes in contact with the radio station they want to work with. They collaborate on what the ad should be like, and the station uses their resources to create a product that everybody can agree on within the budget stipulated at the beginning of the contract. Air times are decided and factored into the budget, and when all is said and done, the ad plays, the company is happy, the station is happy, and everybody listening learns something new.
However, dear reader, this is not what happened with Connected Now and the proverbial not-to-be-named Radio Station.
 Who knew a 60-second radio ad could almost suck the life out of you? When we started out with our radio advertising campaign, the staff at Connected Now was giddy with anticipation. After meeting with The Station’s not-to-be-named Account Executive (henceforth referred to as It), we were quivering. Bringing a piece of paper and a smile, It sat down with Suzon and myself to go over an ad It had written just before popping in. We were ecstatic. Darned if it wasn’t funny when we read it to ourselves in the sanctuary of Suzon’s fuchsia office (I am all too aware that fuchsia and sanctuary don’t exactly seem synonymous, but I assure you that I speak only the truth). Suzon and I took the grand tour of the script later that afternoon, with our pens in hand ready to fill in, scratch out, and adhere smiley faces to the proposed text. Somehow, unbeknownst to me, ferrets crept their furry little selves into the limelight (and I’m not talkin’ ‘bout the bar in Sacramento) – I recall hearing a line about Connected Now parting from the corporate norm of Casual Friday (which we do have) to enjoy Fistful of Ferrets Friday. Now, I’m not exactly sure what that was supposed to mean, but it was just bizarre enough to make me laugh that I didn’t really care what it meant. I figured if someone called up asking about it, I could make up some nonsense on the fly and they just might buy it. The more ridiculous the story, the more likely someone will believe it, right? So we left the ferrets in, added a punch here, clipped a line or two there, and voila! we had a radio ad.
Then came the First Day To Air. Wise woman that she is, Suzon wouldn’t invest blindly in something, or with even one eye closed, so she asked to preview the commercial before it went to air. A few days after we submitted our final copy of the script, Suzon’s cell started rattling and ringing and shimmying across her desk waiting to burst with Hollywood Magic. What she got was backcountry dribble. Or so I hear; I’m not completely certain as to what the ad sounded like, but I think it was akin to a chihauhau barking accompanied by a chimp on a banjo. Not to put animals or banjos down….but I digress. Suzon pulled the ad, which was set to air in about ten minutes, and requested it be re-recorded with some character and dignity. This time she wanted it done right. It delivered. With CD in hand, It strolled into our corporate headquarters and we all had a listen. This version had a typical radio voice reading the script at about 30% pizzazz, 70% cheese, with some looped quasi surf-rock music playing in the background. We listened. And listened. And again. Still, we weren’t quite satisfied. That is to say, Suzon was not as impressed as her bill dictated she ought to be. We all gave our opinions, and in the end it was decided that we needed to fix the script. Remember the ferrets? Well, someone decided to use screeching mice as an acceptable sound effect to represent them. Not cute. Not even funny. More like a fork scratching the surface of a plate, or really bad brakes on a beat-up, smoking Chrylser LeBaron stopping short at a stoplight. With a call in to It, I let It know we’d be writing a completely new script to be delivered in a day for recording. And we would be there to make sure we were getting what we paid for.
When I say we were writing a new script, I mean to say
I was writing a new script. Lucky me. I don’t know about
you, but I’ve never written a radio ad, or any kind
of ad, in my life. Where do you start? I don’t even
like to listen to radio ads, so I didn’t have a clue
what to do. Fortunately I work for the goddess of nurturing
uncertain artists, and so a few of us battened down
in the conference room to get inspired. Let’s just say
that Suzon used the decorative vase in the middle of
the table as a prop, speaking into it to emulate a deep,
mysterious voice from far away – something along the
lines of Darth Vader, but without the heavy breathing
and the evil. With quips and jokes and craftiness, we
came up with quite a few angles, and I finally threaded
the needle of creativity – but what a small needle it
was, my friend. Since writing is not my sole purpose
at Connected Now, I ended up with a total of fifteen
minutes to work on the piece, and even though it’s only
a sixty-second ad, that was not nearl y enough time.
I had no idea how hard it would be to fill one minute
with witty banter, intriguing dialogue and appropriate
information about our company. Apparently it’s not that
easy. But I barreled through my fifteen minutes at the
end of the day, handing my newly formed script to Suzon.
“How is it?” she asked. “Not funny,” I told her matter-of-factly,
as if the entire ad campaign depended on the hilarity
of the commercial. Well, actually, it did. So in my
anxiousness I told my boss that I wrote something that
wasn’t funny, and with my tail between my legs I went
home for the night. And we had to get the script to
The Station that evening. Needless to say I left feeling
less than adequate, my recently inflated ego decompressing
like a whoopi-cushion. “It’s not funny, Suzon. It needs
your help,” was all the information I was able to impart
about it.
Later that night I noticed the new message indicator on my phone. It was from the office. To my ultimate delight, it was Suzon reading the revised script into my voicemail so I could give it the once-over before coming in to work. She even did the voices and sound effects – thankfully there were no screeching ferrets or bad music going with it. Just a clip of the Mission Impossible theme and our own website music. And it wasn’t funny. It was Fun-eee with a capitol F.
A few days after my initiation into the commercial-writing gig, I was awarded a trip to The Station with Suzon to witness how a radio commercial is born. We were there at 3:30 on the dot, just as requested, and we hung out with the funky young receptionist, who we were ready to take home with us, though I don’t think The Station takes employee pirating lightly. Up walks It, and this time It’s the bearer of bad news: we have to reschedule, because the voice guy was caught up in some fiasco of overdue work or something to that effect and wasn’t readily available. We are accommodating women, so we put our script back into It’s hands, after a briefing of how our ad should sound, what kind of feeling we were going for, and what music to play when. People can be so trusting. After going rounds and rounds, the bottom line was our money was already spent. What happened next?
If you’re wondering how the story ends, ask yourself if you’ve heard our ad. Because it’s out there, and THAT, kind reader, is what matters in advertising.
Contact the Christina Barr at
cbarr@connectednow.com
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